Unwanted-Insanity

     My fingers and my heart yearn to write, but the ever-annoying third that is needed to make up this partnership, my mind, is as reluctant as ever. I read, and read; each book, each story with less and less intention to find escape and adventure, but in slow-dying hope that I will be able to take the words printed in black and white before my eyes and feed them to my inspiration. I hope that I will find that most precious gift that few have and I once had - to form not just stories, not just poems, but brand new, sparkling things, that cause laughter, tears, outright joy and burning passion.     I used to do that, and to see peoples' ey

     There is a young couple sat on the other side of the train from me, facing backwards so that I can watch them. The man I'd place in his early twenties. Not any later than 23, but in all honesty, I wouldn't be surprised if he was older. His face is glowing with youth, but I think it's the definition of his nose and eyebrows that gives the impression of a secret, underlying age, whilst it's his lips (that could almost have been sculpted) that tell those who only glance that he is still a young lad. His classic blond locks don't quite reach his eyebrows, leaving about half an inch of impeccable skin. I wouldn't be surprised if his eyes were